FIRST FRIDAYS ARTS MAP

6. Mela Sharratt DeLong, oil paintings, 5-7 pm

“Uncertain Nature: The Sublime in the Contemporary Landscape.” Works from Patrick Kikut, Edgar Smith, Karen Rice and Marcy James, 5-7 pm

2. Alano Club

Susan Cleverly, handmade bracelets, 12 - 9 pm

Kasey Koski, watercolors, 4-8 pm

Greta Jill Register, acrylics and watercolor; music from Suzanne Grassell on harp, 5-8 pm

Michelle Anderst, paintings, 5-7 pm

7. Pan’s Grotto

“What Can You Do With 4 Inches?” Group show, 5-7:30 pm

8. Tumbleweed

Jewelry by Jessica and Tyler Russell and Emily Wall

FINAL EXHIBITION - “Say It Ain’t So”, Chad Yenney, collage art, 12 - 9 pm

“First Friday Open Console”, free event to view, listen and even play the 103-yearold Wurlitzer pipe organ, 6-8 pm

11. Pybus Art Alley

Brad Brisbine, paintings; music by Just Us, 5-7 pm

Coffee tastes only as good as your mouth in it

The sun steeps into its brown, turning it gold leaf The tip of your tongue glistens as you speak, your hair in silhouette against the open window

I’ve felt this all before, a mornings’ breath from the sea, it is indeed warm, but smells too of vast undulating and darkened waters.

Yes, I live below the surface, where light is glanced and refracted, and things look bigger than they really are.

And seaweed has become ballerinas, creatures of chorus in operas and on stages. The ocean floor too, a low comforting note in its semi-darkness

If I were to drown in such depths, I would be home.

- Rayko

When the frozen dew arrives you always seem a little more scarce. A little more distant.

I do my best to adjust. I do my best.

I watch for the headlights in the drive, I listen for the rattling of the chains that tie the canopy of your pickup down. Those sweet chimes of summer.

I pace, not in a literal sense but in my soul. I’m stuck. For a while. Then I adjust. I do my best.

I find other ways to pass the time. Other people to warm the room. Other reasons to...be.

And by the time I get to be feeling like I may be ready to move on - in ring the sweet chimes of summer. And once again, the blue dim darkness of Corn Moon Road melts into a golden glow of headlights.

And for now - and for a while, the pacing stops.

- Denise R.